Mass Effect 3Sacrifice
by RevanSentinel
Summary: One soldier's last stand post-fall of Earth.


**_This is inspired by the "Earth" trailer for ME3._**

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><p><em>Ten seconds…<em>

_ Blood…the taste is almost like metal in my mouth as I hit the ground. Scarlett coppery blood trickles out of the corner of my mouth, but I have to get up. My eyes are blind with sweat, my legs ache from the strain I have put on them for the last few weeks, and my body is so cut up it's a wonder I'm still in one piece. I attempt to release the thermal clip from my rifle only to find it's jammed from that concussion blast earlier. Cursing in anger, I set it to overload and heave it back into the generator…_

There's a dead soldier lying on the ground near me. A turian. Probably died when the first wave hit. His flesh is all but clinging to his bones, but the submachine gun still strapped to his belt will have to work. I clip it to my back rig, next to my sniper rifle.

By the way, I'm only 16.

Reports say that Chicago and Hong Kong just fell. Moscow's currently under a flood of radiation. I heard they're making a stand in Manhattan, but no one's heard anything since we lost contact.

Cardiff's already looking like a warzone, and it's only been an hour. Just like London, Paris, and Barcelona. We keep on arriving too late, but then again, we lose about a fifth of our men every time we drop into one of them Ground Zeros.

John's lying in a pool of his own blood by what's left of our shuttle. The medic's doing the best she can, but I can see his innards peeking shyly out of where we pulled out the beam that skewered him on the way down. He won't make it. There's no more painkillers or drugs to put him out of his misery, and we can't spare the ammo to end his life.

So far, we've sustained only bombardment. No full-scale assault so far. But between the time that it took to destroy our AA defenses and the amount of time between the neutralization of forces and the actual assault, I figure we've got less than an hour before hell is unleashed upon us. By us, I mean our city.

I take a smoke. It's my last cigarette. The lighter's still good. A rare commodity these days. It's a rare 2023 Olympian. One of the last before modern fuel-slug lighters. My other cigarettes are in the mouths of my fellow soldiers. We know most of us aren't going to walk out of this alive.

Graham's hot-wired this old junk called a "radio", something they used a hundred years ago. Saw one once in a museum. He's doing his best to tap into Alliance frequencies, but there's only so much he can do with the half-melted thing.

"Leave that piece of junk Graham. We're not getting anything useful out of it."

"Yeah, yeah…whatever…hang on, I think I have something…"

"….-_peat_…_Alpha Stations 45_-….-_ported sightings_…lost three m-…closing in…-ault imminent! I repeat, assault imminent! Anyone who can hear me, find cover now!"

"Lieutenant, counting fifteen baddies closing in at your six o'clock!"

Yep, I'm a sergeant. 16 years old, and already a lieutenant. Then again, not many 16 year olds can shoot the head off of a husk two miles away.

"You guys heard the fella on the Jurassic RadioShack shit! Fall back to the Roald Dahl Plaza!" I reach for my earpiece only to discover it isn't working. Graham notices my predicament and takes out his own headgear.

"Merrick? Fall back and create a barricade on the Roahl Dahl Plaza…yep, the whole nine yards…sand bags, sniping positions, heavy weapons positions, mines…don't you talk to your superior like that, dirtbag! I don't care if you grew up there, and unless you want to become husk-flesh, I suggest you do as I ask!"

"Look sir!" Alicia, our demo expert gasped. Descending from the sky, like a flock of carrion birds, were the harbingers of our doom. At first glance, they appear to be giant squid-like ships. But watch as they turn a city into a war zone in a matter of days, the way they kill hundreds of innocents, and you realize that the ships aren't ships, but something much more.

"Graham, radio command! Tell them to bring in the heat. Full gunship flights! Move it, move it, move it!"

As the beings land, their "legs" dig into the ground. From within them come hordes of horrifying beasts. Zombie-like creatures, yet with cybernetic implants…husks. Some are grotesque mutiliations of turians, like someone created a metal skeleton of one and filled it with rotting guts and wires. Others are horrible winged beasts or transformed asari.

The first day, the fleet overhead was blown to bits. Millions of brave men and women killed in an instant. All of our major forces have fallen back and are regrouping…somewhere. It was a nightmare. Those…things descending on the buildings, gunships and fighters weaving between their legs. Saw one gunship, an A-61, grabbed by a mandible and crushed. We could hear the screaming even above the sounds of battle. The battle's still raging on, but it's mostly snipers and demo teams and fleeing civilians. Gunships and fighters all but destroyed in London. Big Ben's just a pile of rubble. Some of our snipers tried to use it as a position. Don't know what happened to them.

"Alright, Axium Squad, provide covering fire until the gunships get here. I want snipers in these seven buildings, with ground troops guarding their positions. Let a few of them make it past the minefield before arming it. I don't want to waste our only major advantage in the first wave!"

That's Commander Alan Pell. Hell of a fighter. He was part of the force that drove the geth flagship Sovereign to its doom at the Citadel. Geth flagship. Right.

It started with the revelation that the relays weren't of Prothean origin. Some of the men think that these things designed them, that there was a big hush-up after the Battle of the Citadel. Seeing as the geth have all but withdrawn back to the Perseus Veil, I think they might be right.

Then there was the destruction of the Alpha Relay and the Bahak System. Killed over 300,000 batarian colonists. Boy, were the batarians out for blood. They were practically screaming for the man responsible for it all's head on a spike.

So the man responsible for all this, newly-reinstated Spectre Commander John Shepard, came to Earth, accompanied by some admiral or another named Hackett and an assorted band of the most unusual soldiers I've ever seen. He came to stand trial. Relieved of duty and his ship taken from him. It was only due to Councilor Anderson's good word that the Citadel Council didn't throw him to the batarians.

The days beforehand, we lost contact with every colony, station, and ship outside of the Sol Relay. Then we lost contact with Luna. Next thing we know, these giant ships resembling Sovereign enter orbit. Goodbye North America West Coast. Then they come; start blasting the place to atoms, and after a short battle, Shepard packs out of there, creating a safe zone for those of us still standing to get out. Hundreds of Reapers descending on the city. Shepard and Councilor Anderson got out, but can't say the same for the rest of us. Well, Anderson stayed to lead the rest of us grunts. Heard he was somewhere near San Francisco the last I checked.

Shepard promised to be back with reinforcements, or to stop the Reapers, like he did before. Twice before, apparently. Information spreads fast when your planet is under attack. There are some rumors that our invaders are actually Reapers. A vid of Shepard's induction as a Spectre was leaked out, and he was talking to the Council about something to do with the Reapers…

"Nakamura! Snap out of it!" Pell looks like he went through a brick wall and survived…as well as jumping into a pool of piranhas and surviving a building collapsing on him. The last one's true.

He's got a bandage wrapped around his head and both arms. Can't fire a gun properly with his left. Got it crushed on the way to Cardiff. Missing two fingers.

"Nakamura!"

"Aye sir!" I shout. That's my name. Nakamura. First names don't matter. We're all going to be either dead or mutilated before the sun sets.

"_Where in the name of Mike is my air support!_"

"We're having trouble keeping a transmission with base camp! Command says-…"

"I don't give a damn what Command says! If we don't get air support soon, we're going to be overwhelmed!"

"The closest heavy ordinance they have as listed as a resource nearby is a shipping container full of mechs!"

"That'll have to do!" Pell decided. He let loose with his M-8. Soon, a bunch of YMIR and LOKI mechs come stomping past us and engage the enemy. The first wave is decimated, YMIRs exploding, taking those mechs around them down with them. A quarter of our forces killed by friendly-fire.

Husks…they're advancing. One guy has his throat ripped out. Another is dragged away, and impaled on Dragon's Teeth. His fate is worse than death. I stab my knife into his head as he struggles in his death throngs. It's better that way.

Large bulky batarian-like beasts open fire with weird wrist cannons, blasting through armor like wrapping paper and reducing the living being underneath to pulp. We call them Cannibals on account of their consuming dead allies to heal after we give them a good pounding.

Pell takes a hit from a large husk with a bulging blue sack on its head. Its large claws impact with his skull. He goes down, minus the left half of his head. I slip behind, taking pot shots with my Incisor. Then I bang the hell out of there. These men are done for.

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><p>The mall…fifteen stories high and the size of thirty football fields. More like a small community. Some of the survivors are holed up in here, scattered in department stores and food kiosks. Best advice is to stay as far away from them as you can. They've seen things we couldn't imagine. Things that drive you insane.<p>

Husks also patrol the malls. It's gruesome, but I once had to make a meal out of one. Couldn't stop throwing up for a week after taking a nibble and throwing the rest away, even though it was cooked. Circuitry and flesh were what greeted my eyes when I took that one and only nibble. Ended up having to eat a squirrel raw, I was so hungry. At least there's food in the mall…that hasn't been either spoiled or taken.

Cannibals usually don't go up here. They can't ride lifts in more than twos…and even that is stretching it a bit. They get stuck and it's easy to take them out. Stairs are a different matter, but the majority of them in this mall seem to have been destroyed by survivors. Those who are still sane, that is. The others just wander aimlessly until they're picked off by Husks, or worse; our own people scrounging for supplies. The Cannibals aren't the only ones feeding off their own to survive.

This one guy, he's wearing N7 marine armor. You can still see where the ammo round tore through it and penetrated his right atrium. Died within minutes. I check. Blood hasn't turned brown. He died within the last hour. One of our men who retreated. Good. That's exactly what I need.

I tear off his gauntlets, omni-tool, and his chest armor. It can still be patched with parts from his hip armor. I end up resorting to slicing it off of him when I can't tear the plate off. Inhumane, you say? Well, try to go for two days running through rubble with no shoes, shredded shorts, and what can barely pass as a shirt and spend the next five days in a catatonic state from too many painkillers and antibiotics.

Finally, biting back bile, I sliced through his neck with my omni-blade, and smear his blood and gore all over my clothing, adding some ashes and dirt to it as well. It acts as a camouflage for sight and smell, no matter how many times I throw up after washing it off. Now, I lay down and go limp.

Ten minutes later, two Husks amble towards me. They seem confused by my conflicting appearance and smell, unable to determine whether I am a corpse or not. One of them, the left side of his head looking like it's been torn off but had some alien replacement part added on, still has the tattered remains of an N7 uniform. Pell.

They don't charge. It's now or never. One shot takes down Pell. Straight through the heart. I swear I hear a sigh of relief as he hits the ground. Probably just imagining it. The other just clips the arm of the second Husk. He charges and I fill him up with a few rounds of tracer ammo. Blue blood splatters the wall.

The Husk falls dead. Two down. A whole galaxy-full to go. With my M7 strapped to my back, I peer around the corner. Five more, and three are Cannibals…and then two more come around the corner. Cerberus.

They're here for Shepard. Heard he's traveling all over the galaxy to recruit old allies and cash in on debts. Hope they don't get him…I can make sure that two less Cerberus operatives are looking for Shepard. There's a LOKI mech lying a few feet away. Not too badly damaged, just missing an arm and part of its head…

The lead operative looks puzzled as the mech shambles towards him. He walks towards it, face obscured by a full-head helmet, but completely unafraid. He never got the chance to change his mind. A few seconds later, and the armor was melted off of the front of his chest and his skull was peeping through the hole in his helmet. His ribcage was also visible, showing signs of genetic enhancement plus some…extra stuff. That's what indoctrination can drive people to do. One of the Cannibals and the two normal Husks are dead. Their remains coat the hallway, the remaining two Cannibals, and the last operative.

The other operative doesn't waste a minute. And this one had a riot shield. I take a shot at him. He deflects it with his shield and peppers the wall in front of me with shatter rounds from his M-22. I fire again. He fires again. I retreat farther down the corridor. Despite fire from my M7 rifle, the shield doesn't break. Time for a new tactic.

When you're on the run, you need all the upgrades and aid you can get. I cannibalized the weapons system from a GARDIAN laser and fused it to my Incisor, which if turned on, would create a blast big enough to destroy a building level. If I activate it, then that's it for the weapon variation and the rifle. The blast would burn out the targeting systems and cooling chamber, so it's been my last resort rifle.

But this counts as a last resort. I figure that by now there's five score more Husks in the mall. There's a power generator in the room on the floor above me. If I can get to there…

I stop short and fire underhanded with my M7 at the Cerberus soldier. He's running so hard that he can't bring his shield around to stop the first few shots. I could kill him, but I need someone who still has some resemblance of a mind to lead the other Husks towards me. Instead, I deliberately fire low. The first three rounds bounce off his armor, but the fourth hits his thigh, the armor integrity weakened by the first couple rounds.

Can't tell if it stopped him or not, because I'm still firing while running backwards. The constant glancing in front of me and behind me causes my fire to go wild, bouncing off edges or skimming seams in the armor.

He brings his shield up…three seconds after I switch to Cryo rounds. The enhanced bullets are deflected by his armor and kinetic shields…and bounce off the underside of his riot shield as he brings it up to block the remaining rounds. Without so much as a whisper, the first four Cryo rounds hit the wall. The other shots are deflected by his shield into the wall, impact surfaces traveling towards me until I stop, switch to Armor-piercing rounds, and fire at the wall. The frost has already spread underneath the guy's feet. With a bang, the bullets hit the wall, shattering the parts already frozen.

Pieces of ice-covered concrete rain against his armor, pebble-sized chunks of rock pounding his rifle, rendering it useless. His riot shield, already strained by the Cryo rounds I put into it, cracks in two and falls onto the ground. The floor underneath him gives way, and he only just manages to grab onto the edge, giving me time to get ahead. With a snarl enhanced by his helmet speakers, the Cerberus soldier pulls out his two pistols and heaves himself up.

The two Cannibals charge me, but slip on the still-icy ground and slide forward. One stops short, its head impaled by a piece of shrapnel. The other barrels into the Cerberus operative, stunning him for the moment. I'm already halfway up the stairs by the time he stumbles to his feet.

The rifle's down to its last two shots. The GARDIAN attachment's starting to heat up. It's now or never.

_Fifty-nine seconds_…I've reached the floor. A Husk jumps me, slashing open my leg. I take it down, but the wound's deep. Blood's gushing out. Damn. And I thought my day was turning out okay. I'm going to bleed out if...

_Forty-five seconds_. I can hear the Cerberus guy…there are more Husks on this level than I thought. A Cannibal manages to riddle my ribs with bullets. The kinetic barriers stop all but one. It embeds itself in my ribcage.

_Thirty-two seconds_, and there's a trail of blood leading from the hallway to the generator. My leg's just pumping out the stuff. Arterial wound. Shit, oh shit, oh shit. That's blood. That's a lot of blood. That's _my_ blood.

_Twenty seconds_ to go, and I've flung the Incisor against what's left of the generator, along with my remaining grenades and ammo clips. The SMG's almost out of ammo. I exhaust it against the next few Husks that try and enter the room, scrambling over the pile of their counterparts. Only one bullet left in it. I'm saving that for if I fail. Suicide's the new fashion nowadays. I'm down to the M7. Only two shots.

A Cannibal lumbers into the doorway. I fire again, but miss from fatigue brought on by the blood loss. The Cannibal roars and fires a concussion shot at me. The blast knocks me back, and I feel something break in my chest.

_ Ten seconds…_

Blood…the taste is almost like metal in my mouth as I hit the ground. Scarlett coppery blood trickles out of the corner of my mouth, but I have to get up. My eyes are blind with sweat, my legs ache from the strain I have put on them for the last few weeks, and my body is so cut up it's a wonder I'm still in one piece. I attempt to release the thermal clip from my rifle only to find it's jammed from that concussion blast earlier. Cursing in anger, I set it to overload and heave it back into the generator…only to have the Cerberus soldier grab it.

"You failed." He says. I chuckle…blood shoots from my mouth and splats against his armor. My last act of defiance. Well, second-to-last act.

"_Go…to…hell…_" He doesn't see the SMG clutched in my right hand until I raise it and fire. It misses him but hits a gas pipe. He laughs again and raises his gun to my head.

Two seconds…if that thing doesn't go off at the exact time, it'll build up head and then overload, taking out the entire city and any marines or survivors still fighting for life. I won't let that happen. From a window, I see two Kodiak shuttles and a gunship fly away, a few of my friends on them. I wonder how many will make it in the months to come. One of them spots me through his enhanced helmet systems, and reluctantly salutes me before crossing his fingers over his breastplate. It's a code for "Die well, my brother."

The Cerberus soldier begins talking on his helmet radio. I can hear more husks moving through the maintenance tunnels underneath the mall. I have to do this.

Gas shoots out, bathing him in vapor. Fingering the lighter in my hand, I raise it to him in a mocking salute. He freezes, and I smile. I flick the lighter on.

The world erupts in fire.

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><p>Please R &amp; R!<br>Mass Effect 3-Release Date: March 6, 2012 (North America).


End file.
